Peter Pan is a favorite book of mine. Everybody knows the story of the child who refused to grow up. That’s me. At least, it used to be. I spent my high school career in a daze, coddled away from harsh realities and future responsibilities, bolstered by praises and confirmations. “You’re gifted, Emily,” or “With your smarts, you’ll go far, Emily.” I just nodded and smiled, closing my eyes and letting their words sweep me away.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself alone in a dingy, white dorm room. Somehow, I had stumbled my way into college at sixteen. The reality hit me as soon as my parents closed the door behind them, tears springing to my eyes. Like our storybook fey, I suddenly found myself face to face with the prospect of “growing up,” and I, too, felt like flying away to Neverland.
I treaded timidly at first, reluctantly testing the water with one toe, and then, for lack of fairy dust, dove into my future head first. And it was surprisingly easy. I adjusted almost seamlessly; living alone isn’t hard, classes are interesting, and my grades are satisfactory. It’s even fun. Next semester is looking even better. Not that there weren’t struggles, times I was sad, times it was hard, times I wanted to go home. But those instances grew fewer and fewer. Now I’m looking ahead.

That’s what’s so amazing about growing up. It comes naturally, without warning. Adulthood sneaks up on you in the night, stifling childish fantasies and planting practical plans, realistic goals. It alters you little by little, almost imperceptibly, until one day a friend, a relative utters the words, “You look so grown up!” You can only stare at the mirror in disbelief. I do?

They say hindsight is 20/20. Now I can see how in just one semester, I’ve grown so much. Living on campus has exposed me to so many different kinds of people. I’ve been able to explore new fields of study. I’ve learned to hold my own, how to cope, how to succeed, how to live. Away from the security of high school, of home It was painfully apparent how sheltered, how naïve, I really was. I was a deer in the headlights back then. It’s funny now that I can look back on it with new perspective, new knowledge, and new maturity.

Is it possible to pinpoint the transition from child to adult? Somehow this must be it; however, sometimes I still catch my mind wandering away from my textbook, back to that childish fancy. Of course, if Peter Pan were to offer me his hand tonight, I would have to close the window. Now, to me, there’s something that shines brighter than the second star to the right: the future. So, I won’t say I’m an adult just yet, but I’m certainly on my way.